


Ancient Melodies and Sacred Gardens

by unwritten_tomorrow



Category: Hadestown - Mitchell
Genre: F/M, Gen, Love, Marriage, New Beginnings, Parenthood, Post-Canon, Pregnancy, Regrowth, Rekindled love, They just love each other a lot, and i love them too, they're starting over and welcoming baby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:28:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25132402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unwritten_tomorrow/pseuds/unwritten_tomorrow
Summary: Suppose they tried again and that their love was born anew.
Relationships: Hades/Persephone (Hadestown)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 55





	1. Late-Night Cravings

**Author's Note:**

> In this series of one-shots, Persephone and Hades bring new life to a garden born of love. I posted this chapter on my tumblr and you guys were so incredibly sweet with your responses! I hope you enjoy this sweet journey with this beautiful godly couple.

Persephone wakes in the night to find her bed half-empty. Her husband’s warmth ceases to cloak her body with familiar grace, a gentle flame that had been rekindled when a poor boy stumbled into the underworld. She’d been deceived; a pillow tucked beneath her side, wrapped up between both thighs, resembled her man’s presence in her dreams. He’s too good at slipping from her grasp. Broad shouldered and tall as sin, one might think that Hades would shake the earth with every step, waking even the dead with heavy sounds. That power, she thinks, resides elsewhere: in the voice that rises from the depths of hell and the hands that sign away the lives of those passed on.

Nausea bubbles in the pit of her stomach, sour and foul. Persephone is used to it now: the torment that rises in her throat, the cold sweats just before she vomits. Now, sickness is the natural order of her life. What was once driven by the rivers of wine that coursed through her veins is now the work of something--someone-- far too precious for this world. A tiny being made of stardust and galaxies takes shelter in her womb. She always devoted motherly instinct to her plants, fearful that she may never get the chance to raise a godling of her own. As any mother might, she loves nurturing the dancing babe inside her belly. The nausea, however, is something she can easily do without.

 _Morning_ sickness her ass.

She waits. Seconds pass, then minutes. Bile rises in her throat and for once, she is not quite certain the baby is to blame. For years, Persephone resented this bed. Her husband’s disappearing acts had taken on nightly occurrences and she found herself lying awake cold and alone. Hades is a complicated man by nature. While his brothers warm the beds of their mistresses, Hades had spent his nights locked away in that musty office of his. Foolishly, Persephone wonders if this is her husband’s way of resorting to old habits. A baby on the way, and the old man takes leave to nurture damned contracts?

Tearing the cotton sheets from her frame, the expecting mother rolls out of bed. There is nothing graceful to the act. When she stands, Persephone immediately regrets the decision to disturb her child’s slumber. Her stomach rolls; her back aches. Just beneath her belly button, the shift of a little fist or foot gives clear indication that someone does not appreciate being disturbed.

“Easy, green bean,” she breathes. It’s one of many nicknames given to the unborn babe from the early days of pregnancy. Hermes came up with that one and while the baby is now more of an oversized watermelon, the name makes Persephone smile every time she uses it. “Just wanna find your daddy, that’s all.”

Her descent on the staircase is a Herculean task. Having lost sight of her own feet many moons ago, she uses the bannister as her guide. A grip strong enough to crack a man’s kneecap keeps her balanced, safe. Darkness doesn’t help but Persephone is grateful to have inherited her momma’s eyesight. She breathes easily upon reaching the bottom step. Solid ground beneath swollen ankles is always a blessing these days: one of the many warnings people don’t mention with regard to pregnancy. With the grace of a mother duck, Persephone wobbles through the hall, expecting to find Hades locked away in his chamber of contracts and archives. She hopes he’s sitting down. That way, she might have enough leverage to raise her leg high enough to kick him where the sun doesn’t shine. She braces herself until a noise from the kitchen catches her attention.

Curiosity spikes. She follows the sound and what she finds stuns her into silence. Sporting nothing but a pair of plain pajama pants, her big, tough man stands with his back pressed against the countertop and a carton of blueberries in his hand. Hades picks at the fruit like a man who journeyed through the desert for a month with no food to his name. He doesn’t see her standing in the doorway. No matter. Persephone takes the opportunity to watch him for a while, her smile crooked and tired.

“You _hate_ blueberries.”

Hades isn’t a man to be easily spooked. He’s far too old, too knowledgeable of all the world’s harsh realities. A war hero, he once sought shelter from his own mind. His dreams. Persephone had managed, long ago, to rid those awful memories brought about by every scar that peppered his skin in golden rivers. His heart hardened against trivial fears not long after they met. But when she speaks, Persephone watches her husband flinch as if struck by a bolt of lightning.

“I _know_ ,” he replies in a desperate whisper. His eyes are wild. Confused. “But I can’t stop eatin’ ‘em. I finished off the pretzels, too.”

“Not the sourdough ones…”

Hades merely nods behind another small handful of blueberries. When hormones rage like brutal storms, Persephone’s power unfolds in ways she can’t control. Any ounce of bad news is enough to make her scream to high heavens. Vines and thorns have littered their kitchen before. She remembers that day: an infamous afternoon in which Hermes ate her very last plum. He’s been fearful to return to the end of the line ever since. Now (by the grace of the gods) she mourns her pretzels in silence.

“Husband, last I checked, I was the one growing a babe.” Unable to contain a gentle laugh, she crosses the room to stand in front of her man. “Though I must say: think you’ve gained a bit of a belly on your own.”

“Lover--” Hades’ voice is muffled behind his hand. Proper man, always one to cover his mouth when he chews. “I think I’ve gained five pounds in this week alone. I can feel it. It’s all in my gut.”

Arms folded across her globed stomach, Persephone rolls her eyes. “Oh, you poor man.”

“You know what I mean…” Guilt grips his heart in that instant. Who is he to complain about such trifle inconveniences? Bringing a human baby into this world is no easy feat; bringing a godling into this world? Hades can’t begin to imagine such a trial. He’ll witness it in due time: the birth of their first child. Persephone’s capability to restore life to the world is a gift unlike any other. Even on her worst days, she’s handled herself with undeniable grace. Silent, he holds the carton of blueberries in front of him so she might share in his gluttonous attack. Another carton waits in the fridge; gods forbid they ever run out.

“Hecate said this might happen,” Persephone hums, stifling a yawn. “Said that daddies can take on a momma’s cravings. Not exactly common but… I guess from spending so much time with ya, my influence rubbed off.” She gathers a couple blueberries in her hand and eats them one by one straight from her palm.

Hades tilts his head, curious. Seems like an outlandish idea but then again, here they are. “When’d she say that?”

“Couple months back, I think. Can’t remember exactly when. She also mentioned sympathy pains which--unlike your brothers-- I figure you might experience those too. Ya know: what with your big heart and all.”

“She’s sure about all this? Thought those were just ol’ wive’s tales…”

“I thought so, too, but she’s delivered plenty o’ babies in her day. She knows how nervous daddies get.” Her fingers rest on Hades’ stomach and give a gentle squeeze. “Could always be nervous eating...though I don’t think ya’d torture yourself with resorting to blueberries.”

“Hm,” Hades hums in a soft tune that could mean anything and nothing all at once. “I hate these damn things.”

Their little flower stirs again. For a babe so small, she has a powerful kick. Persephone takes note of every time their babe rolls within her womb. She could come any day: a thought both thrilling and terrifying all the same. Ancient gods can be blessed with babes forever. Oh, how they’ve waited. Time heals most wounds, but there is nothing that can take away the void of many failed attempts to starting a family. We’ll try again next fall, Hades had promised. He kept his promise in every regard and from the ashes of their war-laden marriage, new life blooms in the most beautiful way.

“I can take them off your hands,” she huffs, her hand circling her belly in smooth, easy movements. “You can find yourself another snack. Long as ya promise to come back to bed. Your pillow ain’t warm enough for me.”

Hades praises Persephone with a tender kiss to the forehead. “Yeah, ya better take ‘em. Just give me two minutes; I’ll be up.”

Blueberry carton in hand, she nods in full assurance that he’s being truthful this time. ‘Two minutes’ once translated to two hours not too long ago. She turns to leave, but pauses. “I can always just holler for ya when my water breaks.”

Hades had one last blueberry to dispel. He finds himself half choked, the tiny fruit nearly lodged into the back of his throat. “ _What?_ ”

“Oh, darlin’,” Persephone gasps. She scurries back to him and, in a frantic attempt, she beats her palm against his back. “I was kidding!”

What a story to tell their daughter: the time that daddy nearly choked to death on a blueberry. He settles, regaining his composure once air makes way to his lungs again.

“ _Don’t do that to me,_ ” he croaks.


	2. The Legacy of Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm still alive... So sorry for the delay in this update. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

Immortal babes are conceived by the power of the stars. The first sign of life in a goddess’ womb is gentle—the small glimmer of light that flickers like a candle. A tiny flame brought to life in darkness. Hades has heard the legends: stars above must die when a godling is first brought to life. Nyx’s diamond necklace loses another gem in the form of sacrifice: one life for another. When ancient stardust fades from the evening sky, it returns to the Earth as a tiny heartbeat, the strength that allows little feet and fists to make themselves known. A King of death never questions the sanctity of such tales, for who is he to doubt life’s promises to him? Life, death—an eternal bond in which one cannot exist without the other. And the ancient tale written in the sands of time is almost beautiful enough to be true. Now, he understands the whole story. All of the little details left unsaid. When one mother gains a babe, another loses hers. 

Nyx, in all her vengeful glory, will not allow her stars to die in silence.

Stars explode in violent, red chaos. They chase the power of Apollo’s sun, yearning to be seen and praised in the final moments of life cut too soon. For who can ignore the beaming rays of sunlight? Who fails to question how a burning giant fits within the sky? Nyx grants her babes the chance to flourish with the power of a thousand suns in their final days. Still, no man nor God witnesses the death of a star by searching the outer depths of space. 

Astronomers need not search so far to pay final respects to a dying star; should they wish to see the explosion of galactic proportions, they need only observe a mother’s trial of bringing a babe into the world. 

Hades kneels at the bedside, unable to move. Unable to  _ think _ . He whispers quiet prayers disguised as loving anthems for his wife, desperately hoping that the gods above might take pity on her. Hera, Hestia,  _ Nyx _ : he knows that each of them watch over Persephone from above. Perhaps with vanity; perhaps with hope; perhaps with envy. Silenced by the walls of rock and stone, the king is not one to pray. Nothing comes from wishing on the stars that shine for only worthy eyes--now, he realizes that he had been blinded to their power.

Persephone clings to him as if he’s the only dream worth keeping--a dream that might slip away. 

“I’m  _ scared. _ ”

She sobs, her voice muffled against her husband’s chest, as the weight of the world threatens to break her in two. Her womb holds a precious gift: a healthy, baby girl. And this goddess child longs to be part of this world, to put a face to the voices she’s heard for the past nine months. Hades marvels in his lover’s abilities to bring new life to this world. Flowers bloom at her touch, birds sing if only to mimic her voice. As he gives the earth its rest, she wakes it with golden glory. But even she has yet to bring life in this way. 

“I know, lover,” Hades laments. Her face is flushed with vibrant golden hues, the kiss of a sunset upon her cheeks. Sweat and tears gather like silver raindrops along her brow, in the hollows of her eyes. Even like this—so worn and hurt—she’s got the beauty of a painting. A natural, sad sort of elegance that he can’t quite describe. The type of beauty to be found in summer rain. She’s braving weather more powerful than Zeus’ thunder, more vicious than Poseidon’s waves, more ravenous than Demeter’s frosts come winter. Had he the power to take her pain for himself, Hades would. 

He shifts and presses a tender kiss to her temple. For what else is a man to do when he becomes powerless against nature’s commands? 

“Think of our girl. Our baby. Her tiny fingers. Her toes—“ Hades tries to wipe away the pain that is written on every crevice of Persephone’s face, to no avail. “Think she’ll have your eyes, lover. An’ those curls o’ yours. A real spittin’ image of her momma, most like.” 

Persephone smiles— attempts to. The tightness in her belly; the constricting muscles that ache from head to toe; the way the room spins like a roulette wheel: it leaves her nauseated and powerless. Her husband, bless his heart, tries to console the torment that wracks her body with words of love meant only for her ears. Gentle songs long ago forgotten, brought to life again in spring-like melodies. It’s not the pain she’s fearful of. She earned her title as the queen of death, and her name does not mean ‘bringer of chaos’ by mere coincidence. 

“She’ll hate me, Hades,” the goddess croaks, her voice dragged along the molten gravel of their underworld. “ _ Gods,  _ she’ll hate me…” 

Mouth agape, Hades searches her gaze. Searches to find some other truth because, surely, he’d misheard her. “Why would you say that?” he asks in a desperate whisper. 

She closes her eyes like a child afraid of the dark. Hot, angry tears stain her cheeks—battle wounds to a war fought against them. The pain in her abdomen ebbs, rolling off her body in gentle waves, for a blissful moment. When she remembers to breathe, it’s like she’s a babe herself taking her first breath of life. Persephone rests her hand on the swell of her stomach, feels her little one move with urgency. This world seems distant, now. She can feel her husband’s warmth, hear the sound of his voice in her ear, and yet she seems to be one with the stars, cast millions of miles away. It takes her a moment to register the hand at her back; a small eternity to realize that she’s trembling in silent sobs. 

“I gave up on thinkin’ we’d have a baby—“

“Lover—“

“I let myself despise her home. Her daddy…” When Persephone opens her eyes, she looks impossibly young. Her honeyed gaze is consumed by tears, her eyes glazed over with crystal glass. She wears the face of a child who just lost her home. And when she presses her hand upon Hades’ cheek, she realizes she isn’t the only one fighting tears. “She has every right to hate me.”

Hades swallows. The sharp tightness in his throat lingers, choking him. Every word dies on his tongue for a short eternity—there is no amount of loving words that can change what time had done to them. No quantity of sugar-coated lies will be enough to conceal their history forever. With time, gods willing, their girl will know the stories of war waged against two lovers; of the torment between two worlds; of the lives taken too soon. She may never understand how her parents had grown apart like weeds, but she will always know just how much she is loved with more strength than every star in the sky. 

Hades grants Persephone another tender kiss to the forehead. “Her daddy ain’t exactly made things easy, darlin’...She has anyone to be hatin’...It’s me. Beyon’ the shadow o’ a doubt.”

Her husband isn’t one to cry. In all her years of being married to Hades, she thinks she’s seen him cry a mere handful of times. Persephone doesn’t need to see his face to know that he lost his battle with tears—she can hear it in his voice. 

“‘m sorry,” she soothes, “for all of it. Know that...Lover, you gotta believe I can apologize til my dyin’ breath and it won’t be enough.”

He smiles timidly. “Don’ think we’d have a babe on the way if I didn’t believe you were sorry.”

“Think  _ I  _ was the one in need of convincing.” Persephone pinches his arm and musters a watery sort of laugh. She wants to believe him. She longs to hold onto faith that their baby will sense the love she is given, and feel safe in her arms upon arrival. Perhaps when little girl is grown and moody she’ll rebel with harsh words and slamming doors. Persephone knows that teenage hate isn’t much to take to heart—she’d been that age herself, after all.

Galaxies burst into flame at the base of her spine. The red giant star threatens to expand until she shatters, blown apart by cosmic rage. Their new star, the one gained from the sacrifice of another, moves about with Mercury’s power, with little sense of time, with constant speed. Persephone whines and hisses like a snake through gritted teeth. She knows she will always have a hand to hold. Hers finds solace in her husbands, fingers weaved together in perfect, golden harmony. 

“I’ll go see if Hecate is done concoctin’ her meds,” Hades offers. Before he can move to his feet, Persephone stops him. Holds him by the arm. 

“No,” she gasps in a heavy breath, “Stay with me. I want you t’ stay.”

So, he does.

Somewhere in an ebony sky, Nyx weeps in silent relief.  Some stars are worth granting a last goodbye.

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
